The best place to date on the internet

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous

Aside from making a joke Christian Mingle dating profile my freshman year of college, I have never tried online dating. Sort of. If we’re talking specific dating websites like Okcupid, Tinder, eHarmony, then fuck no. I still can’t wrap my head around making a digital poster trying to sell yourself in under 30 seconds to a bunch of people who are superficially judging the SHIT out of you. It’s the digital dating equivalent of the poorly dressed guy with gross teeth and whiskey breath trying to chat you up in the bar after you just spent 2 exciting hours picking out your outfit, curling your hair and applying liquid eyeliner, just to find an anal fissure rain on your pretty parade. No thank you, sir. Why put so much effort into a dating profile filled with hungry rats when there’s a way more effective place to date online?

Are you ready for this shit?

ios_homescreen_icon

It’s TWITTER.

For about a year, I gave out my Twitter handle instead of my phone number or Facebook or email. And actually my current bf, who before was a really, really light acquaintance, thought I was hilarious on Twitter and it eventually led to us hanging out, dating and gettin’ all lovey and shit. All of those other mediums are WAY too personal to give out to someone you’ve just met or a cute acquaintance. Here’s why:

  • Texting is never casual and always stressful with new people.
  • Facebook is like inviting a new person into your family dinner, high school reunion and a digital record of your life for the past decade simultaneously
  • Email is like you’re ready to give up and share bills already

Why Twitter is the best place to date

On Twitter, you don’t have to use your real name if you don’t want. I think there is a deep meaning in adopting a user name, because it frees you from the confines of societal norms that your government name ties to you. You can express yourself more freely, which is the kind of communication you should get out there right away when it comes to meeting new people. None of this “so, where’d you go to school?” bullshit and straight to the “corn dogs are fucking AWESOME” jam. Twitter lets people read you and your thoughts as you go about your normal, daily life, (and lets you read them too), which I think is a WAY better dating tool than constructing a profile of your Best And Most Interesting Qualities to lure dates. Dating profile fluff isn’t getting anybody anywhere. Showing who you are on Twitter will get you somewhere (unless you totally suck and in that case ain’t nobody can help you but God herself).

This is you on every OkCupid date you've ever been on
This is you on every OkCupid date you’ve ever been on

Your Twitter handle is also low commitment contact information to give to cute guys or girls in the bar. You both can follow each other, casually fav, retweet (!!!) or reply to tweets, without there being a ton of intimate pressure to text or endure a fucking awkward and outdated facebook chat *shudders*. Plus, there’s already a bunch of random people following you on Twitter anyways, so adding one more isn’t weird like being immediate Facebook friends would be.

And if you’re reluctant to hand out your Twitter handle, get theirs. That way you can see what kinds of things they write about or retweet before you decide to follow them. If it’s a ton of sports stats and inspirational quotes, then you just sidestepped adding a bunch of a “your” vs. “you’re” tweets in your feed. If it’s a bunch of funny complaints, jokes and relevant cultural references? Cool, new material to steal and use on your coworkers.

What’s best is that in the off chance that your prospective date doesn’t have a Twitter handle, you’ll know they suck and can avoid a week of annoying favs and @ replies. It’s a win win. Yes, the argument could be made that there are cool and interesting people without a social media presence. Lemme know when you find one who isn’t also worried about the fluoride in the water controlling our thoughts. It’s 2014, yo.

So next time you think a guy/girl is cute, think about sending over your twitter handle on a cocktail napkin. You never know if it could turn into a brief and fun romance, new jokes to retweet/steal or a lifetime of LUUUUUVVVVVV.

 

The real Minneapolis dating scene: Don’t talk to me unless I know you already

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous

Downtown_Minneapolis_at_night

This New York Times article chronicling the dating habits of Minneapolis residents is missing a few key elements of our *wonderful* dating scene. Here are my thoughts on the article and what they left out:

  1. Minnesota nice? People are jerks here just like everywhere else – except when your car gets stuck in the snow. Then they come out of the woodwork like a beautiful termite infestation of goodwill and camaraderie.
  2. The Minneapolis dating scene consists of going out with your friends and not talking to anyone else except your group of friends. That’s seriously it. Maybe it’s because on some level we all know that everyone else will be just as shitty of a human being as our horrible friends, so why bother meeting anyone new? It’s either smart or incredibly lazy with a side of depressing as hell. But hey, that’s us!
  3. My boss once said something really great about Minnesotans and why our dating scene sucks: if you start talking to someone in an elevator, some light chat about the afternoon or the weather, they get so nervous that you’re gonna follow them to their car or ask for their personal home address that they become extremely paranoid and ruin the entire light-hearted experience all because they think you’re gonna murder them. I don’t know what it is or why it exists, but it is very real.
  4. It’s nearly impossible to have a nice conversation with another person in Minneapolis, possibly the entire state, without it being extremely awkward and feeling like a gigantic waste of time. There’s just something about the look in everyone’s eyes that screams “I don’t want to be talking to you. I have enough friends and I’m probably sleeping with one of them when I get black out drunk/horny/sad enough to make a move.”

So: who’s packin’ their bags for good ol’ MPLS?!

Certainly there are very different realities among the different types of people who reside in Minneapolis. Some may be more romantic; others even more bleak than the sad outline I provided above. bad-first-date

And maybe it’s just my age group. I represent the 20-something U of M grad who is still friends with mostly all her college friends, friends of those friends, and friends from work. If you’re not a constant, forced upon presence in somebody’s life here, there ain’t gonna be no out-of-the-blue phone calls happening to hang out or “get a juicy lucy.” (Which, ew.)

Winter also plays a huge part in our disjointed dating scene. For over 6 months of the year, you are confined to the walls of your home, the numbers in your telephone and your Facebook chat list. Making friends in the winter is nearly impossible. Why would you dig your car out of 2 feet of hardened snow to meet up with someone who you don’t even know if you’ll like? That’s why we tend to stick to our group of tried and true friends and don’t bother to branch out unless we absolutely have to. Because chances are, we’ve already got one of you in our circle of friends:

Gay and love dancing? I’ve got two of those already. Going through a never-ending existential crisis with a side of seasonal depression? Yup. See him once a week. In a band? SO AM I AND EVERYONE I KNOW. (Thingamabobs? I’ve got twenty!) And if you work at Target Corporate, you better keep movin’ pal cuz nobody wants that Stepford/hipster hybrid cramping their heroin chic apartment.

Furthermore, maybe our dating scene really isn’t any shittier than any other city in the US. In fact, I’d be even MORE skeptical if a city was REALLY good at dating. So what, does that mean you’re all a bunch of honestly nice people who like to go out and have fun with each other? Sickening.

These are the dates I went on this year:

Love.
Dating.
  • A shorter-than-me bartender who believed strongly in gender roles. I’m 5’7″ and he wouldn’t stop mentioning our height difference or being really intense about how a woman and a man should act in a relationship.
  • A fun guy I ran into randomly 3 times who I met downtown MPLS and a thrift store in St. Paul. He picked me up the night gay marriage was legalized in MN, we shared a PBR tallboy and celebrated at the Townhouse, and then drank beers on a bridge by the train tracks until it was time to go home. It was the most fun and exhilarating date I’ve had all year, but he was also living in his car at the time. I mean, I’m down for whatever, but it’s pretty hard to date someone who’s living in their car. In the words of Liz Lemon, that’s a dealbreaker, ladies.
  • A guy I met at work where I dj who wouldn’t stop bothering me until he finally broke me down and got my twitter handle, then my snapchat name, and then my number. We had a really awesome date and then he bailed on the second date citing “baseball” as the reason.
  • A brief snapchat romance with a guy I grew up with as a kid. Snapchats turned sexy, sexy turned into hour long phone convos, amazing phone convos turned into an invitation to his hometown for a 4th of July IRL hangout. Not surprisingly, Snapchat had not wielded a magical forum for love through timed photos, and we were set to self destruct from the beginning, just like the photos themselves.

You see, folks? Those weird romances could have happened to anyone in any city across the country, even the world. So maybe we should stop thinking that every time the NYT comes in to town to chronicle our weird dating scene that we’re special or especially fucked up when it comes to finding a mate. I mean, isn’t one of the most common human denominators the fact that dating sucks? Why else would Sex and the City be such a big hit, or How I Met Your Mother? The real truth is that dating sucks no matter where you live; we’re all just uniquely bad at it. WE ARE THE WORLD (of bad daters). Let it bring us together. Hallelujah.

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F me on Facebook punkssss

Dating: Defining the lukewarm lover

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous
Lukewarm_date_with_Rosa_by_shellegg
“Lukewarm Date with Rosa” by shellegg Image via deviantart.com

Telling someone you don’t like them romantically is not fun. And it doesn’t even have to be that you dislike them per se, but even saying you “don’t feel a romantic connection but still think they might be a cool friend” is a really strange boundary to set up when you’ve had maybe one or two dates with anyone. It’s like asking someone to define Yeezus having only heard the opening track. That’s just insane.

I have this theory that may be brilliant or really fucking obvious. It’s that we already know what we think of each other, but we don’t like not having the insurance of a lukewarm lover on the back burner. They’re always there, pretty eager and ALWAYS complimenting your hair. (Plus, it’s always fun to be liked.) But where do we draw the line between leading someone on and keeping them in your cell under “IDK, MAYBZ”?

Reasons lukewarm lovers are still in your cell phone, life

  1. It’s easy to get lonely. Even if the love is lukewarm, it’s something.
  2. Nothing better has come along. It sounds harsh, but you’d be lying to yourself if you say you have never been on a few too many dates with someone because at least it was something to do/entertaining. Of course it’s best to be honest to your lukewarm lover about your intentions. I really like hanging out with you but I’m not sure I see a future together is something I’ve totally said before, and it worked out fine. It feels awkward coming out of your mouth, but people respect honesty a lot more than you’d think. And it’s not like they’re gonna die cuz they can’t have you. People are stronger than you think, too.
  3. What if you need a quick date to a wedding/bar mitzvah/your ex’s engagement party. lukewarm-faucet Of course it’s cool to fly solo, but sometimes that doesn’t feel good and you need someone there with you who’s not your gay BFF or your roommate.
  4. You have no idea what you want. Is there a deeper reason you still have this person in your life? Maybe it’s just a friendship you’d like to continue, or maybe there’s room for romantical shit. Don’t put too much pressure on defining it. Maybe what you need is to NOT define it at all and see where it goes, while still trying to be honest about your intentions. Leading people on sucks, but at least if you’re honest about your uncertainty, they can decide if they can deal with uncertainty or wanna GTFO. Options, yo.
  5. Ego. You want to think that a ton of lukewarm loves are TOTALLY fantasizing about your genitals and sick style, when they are probably not thinking about you at all, or thinking that you’re a huge turd. Nobody likes a turd. Don’t be a turd.

Basically, even though it sucks to talk about uncomfortable shit (hey, adulthood!), it’s best to be open and honest with your lukewarm lover. They can probs handle it, just don’t be a huge asshole because you’re not the first person they’ve ever liked and you won’t be the last. And even if they can’t handle your lukewarm definitions, remember it’s for the best. They’ll move on to find what they’re looking for and so will you. No need to waste your time AND another person’s. Stick to my life mantra which also applies to dating and you should be mostly okay: let’s try not to ruin anyone’s day here, and don’t be a fuckhead.

20-Something Dating: Understanding Carrie Bradshaw

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous
She looks lost, yet hopeful. A true 20-something spirit! Image via mhbo.hbo.com

As a teen watching (and idolizing) them bitches from Sex and the City, I never really thought I’d go through similar dating mishaps. Watching the show, you’re either “That guy is a total DICK” or “Oh my god, I LOVE him” to any given dude the golden four ever picked up.

But now as we all are hanging on to our first full time jobs, apartments, friends and dating lives, things are starting to make a lot more sense from the world of one Ms. Carrie Bradshaw. For instance:

  • Names don’t matter.
  • Don’t ever try to date your good sex hook up.
  • Funky tasting spunk (I can’t believe there isn’t a meme for that. WTF internet!)
  • Worrying about never dating again in your current city pool of eligible mediocrity
  • Sometimes you’re just not that into people, and they just aren’t that into you.
  • Fuck rent.
  • Date richer so their town car can pick you up. Cuz scooters are cute for a minute and all, but fuck that.
  • Don’t date someone who makes you camp. You will break their heart.
  • Your soulmate might be bald. But the sex might be great. So don’t be a bitch.
  • Don’t move to Paris with an old Russian artist when your Mr. Big is right where you left him.

God, we are FUCKED. At least we have cooler than cool friends to brunch and bitch with about our dating warbles. Mimosas don’t pour themselves, and good stories don’t come from people who stay at home.

Dating: Names are OVER

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous
“I’m going on a date with mullet spandex guy” Image via imposemagazine.com

All the single ladies, all the single fellas!

Most of my friends are single and on the prowl. As we blow the fuck through wander through the jungle of “do you think he has a nice dick?”, “does he have a job?” and my personal favorite “he better not have a fucking girlfriend”, we begin to accumulate massive amounts of people under our leopard print dating belts (that should be a thing). As we pile up the i-hope-he-never-calls and the if-he-doesn’t-call-i’m-never-dating-agains, we as daters and friends of those who are dating tend to lose track of names and adopt a more efficient strategy, you know, to speed up the conversation in our OH SO BUSY 20 SOMETHING LIVES. Allow me to demonstrate:

EX: 1 Conversations with names

S: I hope Adam calls. I wanna get laid.

K: Who the fuck is Adam, I hate him already, dump him.

EX: 2 Conversations with descriptive adjectives

S: I hope punk boy calls.

K: YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He is amazing, fabulous and a great person.

See? It is wondrous for everyone involved to use an adjective to describe the person you’re trying to date/bone/marry/stalk. It allows our friends and us to keep track of who is who in our dating conversations, without the inefficient bullshit that are names. We ain’t got time for names, only love games baby. YA HEARD

This is cool: OKCUPID ENEMIES

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous

So we’ve really resorted to making fun of lonely people trying to find love? Okay! I feel only a little bad. But if you’re gonna be super weird and bring up precum on the internet with a bunch of strangers, then you’re pretty much doin this shit to yourself.

Check out the rest of these boneheads at OKCUPID ENEMIES.

Celebrité: Taylor Swift hurt John Mayer’s feelings

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous

John Mayer and Taylor Swift: A match made in tabloid heaven

I mean, shit. Yes, John Mayer had a couple of wild years there, but haven’t we all? John Mayer, in an interview with Rolling Stone, said he was “humiliated” by Taylor Swift’s song “Dear John”. Take a look at the lyrics:

“Dear John, I see it all, now it was wrong / Don’t you think 19 is too young to be played by your dark twisted games, when I loved you so?”

Mayer then goes on to say he didn’t know she was heartbroken or anything. Speculation about their time together aside, it’s pretty rude as a widely successful artist to write songs that are so thinly veiled about your celebrity dates. Why would anyone take a chance on dating her? If things went sour, she’d probably write a song called “Fuck You Dick Sucker: An Ode to My Ex” because he didn’t text her back right away.

“Yeah, Imma fucking cut you if you don’t hand me that bread. NOW.” Image via cassyfiano.com

Taylor Swift is the classic case of “I was bullied in high school, I’m a victim” who has now turned into the self righteous bully-victim. She gets hurt by a guy (ps everyone gets hurt in relationships, lady), plays victim, i.e. never at fault and writes a song trashing him. She’s done it to Joe Jonas AND took a stab at alleged boyfriend-stealer Camilla Belle in that one.( Slut shaming, nice move Taylor Swift! Female solidarity, right?) Taylor Lautner, John Mayer, and who the fuck else knows because I don’t follow her music.

I’ve never been a fan of Taylor Swift. I can appreciate her talent, but there’s something about her personality that is like broken glass in your mouth. At first it was kinda neat that she talked so much shit about her boyfriends, like a “fuck yeah, ex boyfriends suck!” type of deal. We can all get behind that. But after a while it became her ‘thing’. Trashing people after they’ve broken up with you over and over and over… yikes. Sounds like she needs some yoga and deep breathing somewhere in India for a while and a little growing up to do.

John Mayer Calls Out Taylor Swift For Humiliating Him In Dear John – Music, Celebrity, Artist News | MTV.com.

Dating: Being nice to boys in clubs

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous
They are still this terrified of talking to women. Image via buzzfeed

Having frequented many a night club over my of-drinking-age age, I’ve at least come to one conclusion: There is no need to be such a sour Sally to complete stranger-men asking you to dance.

Yes, boys and men in dance clubs can sometimes be horrifying. They are normally wearing suits that are a size too big for them (bless their hearts!), some kind of Affliction shirt and more often than not a pound of hair gel holding their murky brown hair into a never-moving state of “that guy looks creepy.”

Relax, Emma Watson. He may just have really, really bad hair. Image via thejay.com

So many times I’ve seen women be straight up rude as fuck when an unwanted guy asks her to dance. This weekend, I decided to take a nice approach to this type of guy asking me to be his partner in busting a move. A simple “Thanks but I’m here with my friend” plus a kind smile was enough to politely decline and not add (I’m bitchely yet realistically assuming) another rejection to a guy who’s trying to dance with and meet women.

(Dating is still this awkward.)

When I think about these nameless and faceless men in bars and clubs, I think about my guy friends in bars or clubs who want to ask a cute girl to dance but don’t because they’re afraid of rejection. Have women and society totally just fucked with men’s minds when it comes to interacting with women in a public space, or does somebody need to get a thicker skin when it comes to dating and relationships? Probably a little of both.

However as a woman, have you ever tried approaching a guy you thought was cute? It’s kind of really horrifying. Times that by a million and that’s what our guy friends and other people’s guy friends are doing every single weekend. Puke. Scary.

OF COURSE, there are circumstances when guys don’t give up and it’s just too much. This can be Ryan Gosling hot or Ted Bundy bad bad bad. If a guy or anyone for that matter after a couple polite pleas is being a dick, then the attitude is definitely warranted to surface, because rudeness after a polite “no thanks” is simply unacceptable on their behalf.

No we don't! But dating could very well end up like this if we all keep being jerks. Image via bilgrimage.blogspot.com

We, men and women, are not so different. We have beating hearts and bodies and minds that want to meet other beating hearts, bodies and minds. So, the next time you’re in a club and a guy you are not into asks you to dance, simply decline the offer politely because it’s the proper thing to do. Treating others kindly in moments of vulnerability can maybe make this dating thing a little easier on all of us.

Fuck Dating: Stolen church music equipment and hissing

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous
Probably the next person to ask me on a date. Image via lifeisajoke.com

 Fuck dating is a recurring column written by an anonymous and fabulous 20 something

When I was thrust into the dating world (again) at the mere age of 20, I accepted a date with a rather leather-clad, metal bassist, long-haired dude I met somewhere and through someone I no longer remember.

Our first date is irrelevant. Drinks, chat, looking at his band equipment. Forgettable at best. Our second date however, went a little something like this:

It was a cold, wintry night. Warm, cheap booze was flowing indoors with roommates and friends. The long-haired boy, complete with a leather jacket and jean vest accent, arrived fashionably late-ish with a handle of some other equally shitty booze that was more embarrassing for him because he was not 20 and had a job.

Drinks were drank, conversations were had and kissing had commenced. We stumbled our way back to my bedroom to continue drunk kissing. Since it was the second date, I KNEW we weren’t going to be getting naked. Partly because I just didn’t want to and partly because I didn’t know him very well. That didn’t stop him from stripping down to his underwear and climbing into my bed.

Drunk, yet coherent and confused, I changed into head-to-toe pajamas. I’m talking neck high, down to my wrist and all the way down to my ankles. And then socks. Covered.

We kissed a little more, but he started getting really hyper and annoying so I asked him if we could just hang out. He turned around in bed and starting pouting like a child because I didn’t want to kiss anymore. As he turned around, he exposed a big tattoo of a star on his back. Not knowing what else to say, I asked him when he got his tattoo. He grumpily snapped that he didn’t want to talk about it, then tried to start drunk kissing me again.

Imagine this guy hissing at you. I'm never dating again. Image via fabulousbutevil.com

At this point I had had about enough of this jerk kissing me terribly and I got out of bed and started to walk out the door to go talk shit about him to my roommates. He then pounced forward, out of bed. Standing there in his dingy underwear, he tried kissing me one more time when I finally smacked him back so he’d get the picture. He recoiled, then looked at me with a fierce sparkle in his eye. His lip curled up, his hands formed into cat claws and then he hissed and clawed at me.

I stood there amazed at what had just happened. Did this guy really just hiss at me? I shook my head in disappointment that another human being would actually do this in public, not to mention on a date, and walked out of the room to tell my roommates through laughing tears that a dude had just hissed and clawed at me in his underwear.

A couple days/weeks later as I was retelling the story to a mutual friend (you can’t just hiss at someone in your underwear and not expect it to be retold,) the part about the tattoo caught his attention. I finally learned that my lovely date had gotten his star tattoo in jail after stealing a bunch of band equipment from a church. If the hissing wasn’t bad enough, this guy actually tried to get equipment for his shitty metal band from stolen church equipment.

An amazing, yet frightening tale.

Lesson learned: This is why you wait a couple of dates to sleep with someone. You never know if that tattoo they got was from jail after stealing sound equipment from a church. Also, you never know if that cute guy from Tuesday night is going to hiss at you in their underwear after one too many mojitos. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Freak!

Fuck Dating: The time a date painted an oil portrait of me

Posted on by 20poorandfabulous
Not a bad parting gift to a couple of awkward dates. But still pretty fucking awkward. "Beggar Woman 1909" by Amedeo Modigliani. Image via oceansbridge.com

 Fuck Dating is a recurring column written by an anonymous and fabulous 20 something

When it comes to dating prospects, not all places are created equal. Some cities of the world, in fact, attract hoards of completely undateable people. This can come in the form of brodawg overpopulation or, in the case of Chile’s Atacama desert, a disproportionate number of miners and prostitutes.

About a month into my work placement there, I began to notice that most of the eligible men from the area were either away at college far off in another city or merely rumored to actually exist (I once heard from a co-worker that she had spotted an attractive man walking around somewhere.)

The details of my only short-lived romance there are a bit vague in my mind because the experience was so dull that I would often forget I was even dating someone. Out of desperation, I jumped on the first pretty face I had seen in weeks.

He, apparently, did not experience the same lapses of memory, however, as evidenced by the oil painting he would later try to present to me.

We went on a few painfully long dates in which we would discuss absolutely nothing over a cup of instant coffee and then afterward he would sheepishly ask permission to kiss me EVERY SINGLE TIME.

This drug on for about two weeks (I know. Time just feels so much longer when you’re bored out of your mind) until I received a text message throwback from middle school that went something like this: “Hello beautiful princess schnookums muahmuahmuah!!” (This part of the text may have been exaggerated.) “Would you like to be my gringa girlfriend? xD” (This part is not exaggerated. That emoticon literally was there and he really did specify that I was a gringa.)

I don't know if anyone looks like this when they're dating. The woman crying is pretty spot on though. Image via dollymix.tv

There are a lot of good reasons you should never try to have the “Where is this going?” conversation over text message. Most of us learn this around 7th grade after awkwardly passing that special someone a note asking, “Do you like me or like like me? Circle yes or no.” The “Can we be a couple now?” text message is the modern day equivalent of the “Do you like like me?” classroom note.

It’s difficult to express in the confines of a text that you’re just not looking for a commitment right now or that you’re just not looking for the same things out of life. This is why adults take the time to feel the situation out and then talk about the important topics in person.

To make things even more awkward, I had already exhausted the balance on my phone, a common problem for any phone user in Chile. So instead of carefully crafting some sort of explanation (“No thnx xD”) I just had to leave it. Days passed and by the end of the week, I had already forgotten about it.

Unfortunately, we knew each other through a mutual friend, so it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths and he was glaring at me from the other side of the room. While I was absentmindedly youtubing my nights away, he had apparently been stewing over what a heartless wench I was (and painting. More on that later.)

I may have a cold streak when it comes to dating but I do hate to hurt someone’s feelings. When we saw each other next, I made my best attempt to explain what had happened and gradually, he seemed to forgive me. I blissfully returned to Youtube and boxed wine, biding my time until I could move elsewhere. And he went back to crafting inappropriate surprises for me.

Yup. Every time. Fucking prick. Image via talknerdytomelover.com

Several weeks later, we saw each other again and he made an offer even more uncomfortable than becoming a virtual text message couple: he had made an oil painting for me (of me?) that he wanted me to have. Nothing makes you feel like more of an asshole than realizing that you’ve been blowing off someone who apparently likes you enough to craft artwork in your name. Few things create as strong of an urge to flee either.

I told him thanks, I’d like to see it but that I couldn’t accept it. What else can you say in such a situation? How could you accept such a gift from someone you barely know?

He insisted several times, in between spurts of scorning me (not that I really noticed, given how incredibly quiet he was anyway.) In my standard style, I avoided seeing the painting until time ran out and my opportunity had come to move somewhere else. Around the same time, he loaded several uncomfortably nude sketches of women to Facebook. I can only imagine what he had in mind when he painted something for me.

Lesson learned: When life lands you in one of Earth’s most desolate corners, maybe now is a good time to give dating a break and fully commit your extra energy to Youtube and boxed wine.